Relentless (Option Zero #2) - Christy Reece Page 0,14

tirade but these men knew more about the horror of human trafficking than she ever would. They’d been in the trenches saving lives. She was just a filmmaker.

“What you do is important,” the silver-eyed stranger said. “The public needs to know.”

She had a ton of questions she wanted to ask. On the verge of developing a mental list of all the things she wanted to know, she shifted gears when one of the aid workers called out to her, “Aubrey, we’re ready.”

“That’s my cue.” She flashed a smile at both men. “Nice talking to you.” She sent a sympathetic smile to the mute man. “I hope your voice comes back soon.”

She walked toward the bus, but when she heard a loud guffaw, she turned back to see that the man who couldn’t speak had given his friend a rude hand gesture and stalked away.

Smiling, Aubrey stepped up onto the bus. She wished she’d been able to spend more time with them. Not only would it be fascinating to get insight into the ins and outs of a rescue operation, the zing of attraction she’d felt had been exhilarating.

The moment she got inside, she lost her smile. This was the reason she was here, the reason she’d become obsessed with telling their stories. The faces of the lost, the forgotten.

She’d fought hard to get here, to be taken seriously. Getting distracted, no matter the reason, couldn’t happen. She was on a quest. Nothing could get in her way, not even a wild-haired, red-eyed man who’d lost his voice and risked his life to save others. Someday maybe…but not yet.

Chapter Seven

Present Day

Indianapolis, Indiana

“Hey, Stryker. You see El Diablo yet?”

Liam readjusted his earwig. It was hard as hell to hear anything with all the caterwauling going on. What kind of an informant wanted to meet in a karaoke bar anyway? His, that’s who.

“No,” Liam growled.

“Me either.” Eve snorted. “Who gave this guy his name, anyway?”

“I think he did that to himself,” Gideon said dryly.

Gideon was right. El Diablo’s real name was Myron Clyde Hornsby. It was easy to understand why he thought El Diablo sounded tougher. But he was also one of the best CIs Liam had ever had. When you’re five feet nothing, weigh less than a buck twenty-five, and had the kind of face that blended into a whitewashed wall, it was easy to slide in unnoticed. Even though El Diablo liked to meet in some of the most asinine places, Liam put up with his idiosyncrasies. He was quirky, weird, and a valuable informant.

“I’d like to sing this for all my friends out there.”

Recognizing the voice, Liam went on alert. Moving his head slightly he spotted his erstwhile informant on the stage, microphone in his hand. Oh hell, Myron was going to sing?

When the music from the old song Somebody’s Watching Me started up, Liam knew they were in trouble. In typical Myron fashion, he was trying to warn them.

“We’ve been made,” Liam said softly.

He barely got the words out before a hand grabbed his arm and tugged hard. Liam didn’t even bother to struggle. Allowing himself to be pulled up, Liam smoothly swung his other arm, slamming a fist into the guy’s face.

As if the entire room had been waiting for a signal, the bar exploded into a free-for-all. Tables squealed across the floor as they were shoved out of the way. A chair flew through the air barely missing Liam’s head. Fists came from the left and the right, jabbed and stung.

It’d been a long time since he’d been in a bar brawl. At a more convenient time, he would’ve jumped right in and enjoyed throwing a few more punches. But he was here for a specific purpose. Beating the snot out of someone wasn’t on today’s agenda.

His eyes tracked Myron’s movements as he scurried off the stage. Liam took a step forward. A meaty fist hurled toward him. Liam ducked, came back with an uppercut to a broad jaw. The guy barely moved an inch. Growling his frustration, he pressed his earwig. “Eve, our man’s going out the back.”

“I’m on him,” Eve answered.

Liam opened his mouth, about to invite Gideon to come inside and join the party, when a body flew by him, obviously thrown by someone. That someone was Gideon who was clearing a path in his typical fashion of just hurling people out of the way. The man definitely had his own style.

“You ever think about going to a bar and not starting a fight?”